


Why Bother?

by thatsoccercoach



Series: Which Door? [50]
Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Gotham's Writing Workshop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 01:58:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14631705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsoccercoach/pseuds/thatsoccercoach
Summary: Sometimes when you're ill, you don't want to bother.





	Why Bother?

                                                            [](https://sites.duke.edu/theconnection/2014/10/28/looking-at-life-through-agreeable-hours/)

He was ready to be home with his family. Work was incredibly fulfilling and his crew was tightly-knit and could be counted on completely. They weren’t his family though. Claire and the bairns would be waiting at home. He couldn’t wait to hold her close and feel the fit of her body against his as if they were meant, always, to be one.

Then, he knew, Faith and Bree would run and greet him, wrapping tiny arms around his legs and peppering him with kisses. They’d beg to be picked up and their curly heads would tickle his nose as they would snuggle close. Both would begin to catalog the events of the last few days that he’d been at work so he wouldn’t miss anything. They were his self-proclaimed miniature personal historians. “I just want to make sure you’re caught up,” Faith would say both to him and to Claire if she’d been out. No matter how long or how much had been missed, Faith and Brianna would share.

Last he would hold Fergus and Willa as long as they weren’t napping. As of late, Fergus was demanding loudly that he be permitted to greet everyone who entered the house. Claire said it was because he knew them. He knew his da and Murtagh came in all the time. He’d recently squealed and screeched when Joe had come over to drop a book off for Claire. When Joe had actually picked up Fergus and Fergus realized that he really didn’t know the man holding him, he let out a wail that surprised even noisy Bree. And Willa. She was content to let Fergus do the greeting and wait for her turn as long as she could be snuggled.

He unlocked the door and came in to be greeted by…nothing. Silence. That was definitely unusual.

“Claire?” he called into the stillness. He stopped to listen and heard what sounded like Faith’s gentle voice. He headed toward their bairns’ bedrooms.

“Are ye all in here then?” He poked his head into the nursery.

Brianna sat on the floor playing with some toy trains. Faith’s voice emanated from within Willa’s crib. “Mama’s sick, but I’m babysitting.”

He looked closer. Fergus, Willa, _and_ Faith were all in one crib where Fergus was sleeping and Willa’s eyes kept opening and closing drowsily in time to Faith’s tender stroking of her baby sister’s head.

“Don’t worry. I’ve got things under control,” Faith paused. “ _Mostly_ ,” she shot a dark look in Bree’s direction at the last word. Brianna smiled at him angelically and batted her eyelashes. He could only imagine what she’d been up to.

“But yer mam is sick, aye? Wi’ what?” He wondered if Claire was just napping in the next room, if she had a cold, or if it was something else completely. If Faith could tell him instead of him disrupting his wife’s rest, it would be simpler. Usually she could repeat Claire verbatim. This time was no different.

“She said it’s ‘character-’” she stumbled and attempted again. “‘Characterized by nausea and vomiting,’ but I just think it’s an icky feeling in her tummy.”

“Oh aye?”

“She always tells me that ‘hydration is the key’ so I think you should probably get her tea or broth, Da.” She nodded succinctly as if waving him out the door with her head. She was definitely her mother’s daughter.

He and Claire often discussed Faith’s maturity and the responsibilities she carried on her small shoulders. They both wanted to be certain that she had a childhood that was filled with rich experiences and play, not just caring for her younger siblings. But, she thrived on nurturing every living thing in her vicinity. It may have stemmed from the fact that being born early had caused her to be under scrutiny and she had very little control over so many things. Nurturing was a way she demonstrated her autonomy, exerted her independence, and contributed.

“ _Go on_ , Da,” she whispered at him. He kissed the curls atop her head, turned, and went in search of his wife.

He found her hunched over the toilet in their master bathroom. Unfortunately Faith’s description of nausea and vomiting had been completely accurate.

“Sassenach? Will ye have a bit of broth then?” he offered gently.

“Why bother? It’ll just come right back up. I can’t seem to keep anything down so far.” She sighed, her voice trembling.

“Weel, ye always do tell us about hydration. Even the bairns say so,” he smiled as he said that last bit then paused before going on. “Ah, Claire? Ye dinna think that-”

“No,” she said succinctly. “I’m _not_ pregnant. To be completely honest, that’s a good thing. Have you _noticed_ how many kids we have now?” She shoved her curls away from her face with a huff.

“Um, I ken how many bairns we have Claire,” he chuckled at the look of shock on her face.

“Yes, well, I don’t think I fully realized the ramifications of four children until I got sick. _Four children_ Jamie! That’s a lot. And I think I have food poisoning. Don’t eat the rest of the takeout in the back of the fridge.” She abruptly bent back down over the toilet.

Once she was finished and felt steadier, he put his arm around her waist for support and comfort and walked her back to bed, tucking her in. He held the broth out to her and laughed outright at the face she made. “Come lass, ye ken ye need some sort of fluids.”

“I know it,” she rolled her eyes and took the mug. “Jamie,” she began tentatively. “I’m sorry I was short-tempered back there. I love our family, I just am really not feeling well.”

“I understand, Sassenach. And I didna mean anything by asking about…” he trailed off, reluctant to revisit his earlier unfinished question.

This time she actually managed a small laugh. “ _Four_ kids, Jamie, love.”

“Aye. Weel, let’s get ye well so ye can get back to spending time wi’ all of us!” He nudged the mug of warm broth toward her mouth, raising off their bed to go back with the children.

“Jamie?” His name fell from her lips softly.

“Mm hmm,” he mumbled back, a bit distracted by how seductive his wife could sound even when feeling ill.

“Are the children fine for a bit?” She looked at him with wide, innocent eyes.

“Aye,” he hesitated. What did she want?

“I wouldn’t mind if you stayed.”

_Oh._

“Oh, aye? Stay or _stay_?” he wiggled his brows rakishly.

“Well…Bolt the door.”

He did.


End file.
